


By My Side

by JJJunky



Category: Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-30
Updated: 2012-06-30
Packaged: 2017-11-08 21:39:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/447840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JJJunky/pseuds/JJJunky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While undercover, Vin is identified as an agent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	By My Side

By My Side  
By JJJunky  
ATF

Ezra Standish, aka Ezra Statton, carefully studied his surroundings. The only light in the dingy warehouse came through dirty windows from a few rays of a sun that had managed to escape the cloud cover. A cockroach crawled across the floor and over his shoe, making him cringe. Despite his revulsion and the poor lighting, his keen eyes picked up the man in the rafters and the man at the back door. Both were armed with P90's, and both had them trained on Ezra and his "bodyguard," Van Tanner.

"I wouldn't make any sudden moves if I was you, Ez."

"Sage advice, Mr. Tanner."

"Looks like Valverde don't trust ya none."

His nerves soothed by the soft drawl of his companion, Ezra smiled. "I'd be more concerned if he wasn't suspicious. This is only the second time we've met."

"If we ain't here at buy guns," inquired Vin, "what are we here for?"

"To set Mr. Valverde's mind at ease. All he knows is I'm a new buyer in town. He wants to make sure I'm not DEA or ATF."

"How will he do that?"

A frown creased Ezra's brow. "Different dealers have different methods."

"Guess we're about to find out which one Valverde favors," said Vin, pointing to where the large warehouse doors were opening.

Shifting his attention to the front of the enormous room, Ezra saw four men framed in the entrance. The tall, slender figure he recognized as Valverde. The bookends were easily identifiable by their bulk as bodyguards. Ezra mentally shook his head. The bigger the physical mass, the safer the criminal element felt. Ezra knew he would rather have Vin guarding his back than five of the Neanderthals. When his gaze rested on the fourth man, Ezra felt inexplicably nervous. He had never seen the young man before, yet his instincts told him the boy was trouble.

"Ezra," hissed Vin, "pretend you don't know me. That ya hired me on the advice of a contact."

Confused, Ezra whispered, "I don't understand."

"The kid with Valverde is from Purgatorio. He knows who I am, what I am."

"I suggest we--"

"There are too many guns on us," reminded Vin. "They'd cut us down 'fore we got two feet."

Wondering if Vin had learned to read his mind as he had Chris Larabee's, Ezra protested, "I can't just throw you to the wolves, even to save my own skin."

"That's exactly what ya gotta do. Jus' do me a favor."

"Anything," Ezra choked out. If there was a chance to save Vin's life, Ezra would willingly risk his own. But as much as he wanted to deny it, Vin was right. Any show of force would leave both of them dead and drive Valverde underground. How many people would die from the guns he supplied before the criminal could be unearthed again? "Anything," Ezra softly repeated.

"Bring Valverde down."

The four men were too close to allow Ezra to answer verbally. He hoped Vin could read his mind and saw the solemn promise to break Valverde's organization or die trying.

"Hey." The teenager stopped and pointed a finger at Vin. "That guy's an ATF agent."

Out of the corner of his eye, Ezra saw Vin move carefully away, putting some distance between them. The lump in his throat making his voice gruff, Ezra protested, "I am sure you are mistaken, young man. Mr. Tanner came highly recommended."

"By who?" Valverde suspiciously asked, signaling his bodyguards to disarm Vin.

"An associate."

"Does this associate have a name?"

Hoping his adversary would interpret his fear as anger, Ezra sneered, "Todd Walters."

"Walters was killed by the Fed's last night," Valverde revealed.

Ezra had been instrumental in the bust of the drug dealer's organization, so was well aware of the man's demise. Which was why he felt safe using him as a reference. Lying through his teeth, he said, "I was unaware of Mr. Walter's unfortunate passing."

Turning to the boy at his side, Valverde pressed, "Fernando, are you sure he's a Fed?"

"I swear it with my life." Fernando made the sign of the cross, touching his forehead, chest, and each shoulder in turn.

Bile rose in Ezra's throat. His extreme intelligence had gotten him out of numerous jambs. Right now, he could not think of one ploy he could use to save his friend.

"Take him," ordered Valverde, indicating his bodyguards should retrain Vin.

"Excuse me," Ezra protested, taking a deep breath in an effort to control his quivering voice. "It is I who Mr. Tanner attempted to dupe. I believe I should have the satisfaction of curtailing his future."

"No one makes a fool of Malcolm Valverde and gets away with it." 

Except the unfortunate person who name you Malcolm, Ezra silently derided. "Mr. Valverde--"

With a wave of his hand, Valverde indicated the bodyguards should take Vin outside. Turning to Ezra, Valverde said, "After I have interrogated your man, I will be in touch one way or another."

"It better be soon or I will take my business elsewhere." Ezra continued to act his part, even as he died inside.

Conscious of the guns trained on him from the rafters and the back door, Ezra numbly watched as Vin was lead outside and pushed into an SUV. Valverde walked away with a smug Fernando swaggering at his side. Ezra had easily interpreted the arms dealer's intentions. If he tortured Vin and was unhappy with the answers he got, Ezra was the next target. If Vin managed to say the right things, Valverde would be ready to deal the next time they met. Ezra knew Vin would not break. Which meant when he saw Valverde again, it would be to set up the criminal for his downfall. This knowledge gave Ezra little consolation.

*****

Vin sat calmly in the backseat of the Suburban. Despite the car's size there really wasn't room for three people when two of the occupants were smaller versions of Godzilla and King Kong. Escape was not a possibility. Besides, he would do nothing to put Ezra's life in jeopardy.

When Fernando climbed into the driver's seat, Vin focused his gaze on the limited view he had of the boy's face. None of the children raised in Purgatorio had it easy. However, born to an Asian mother and African-American father, Fernando's life had been doubly difficult. Teased by the other children for his mixed heritage, he had been accepted by no one.

One of the first things Vin did when he moved into his apartment in the dilapidated building was make friends with Fernando Bagget. Vin had made it clear to the other children that if they wanted to be his friend, they had to be Fernando's as well.

At the time, Vin thought he had helped to keep Fernando off the streets that had killed his father. Now he knew he had failed . He searched the ebony features looking for something he had missed. A sign that the boy had turned dirty. The sharp-boned visage looked the same today as it had last week when Vin fixed Fernando's mother's car.

All this time, Vin thought he had saved the boy from a life of crime by becoming his friend. He had done nothing, saved no one. That truth was even harder for Vin to accept than the betrayal. How many others had he disappointed?

*****

Ezra guided his car up the ramp to his usual parking space. Turning off the engine, he stared at the cement wall in front of him, but he wasn't seeing the gray-scored surface. His mind was replaying the scene in the warehouse. What could he have done? What should he have done to save Vin? These were the questions he would have to answer not only for himself but for the five men waiting in the office six stories above his head.

How did he tell them? How did he tell Larabee their lives would never be the same? It sounded melodramatic, however Ezra knew you didn't lose a member of your family without paying a price. They were government agents and so much more.

One decision Ezra had made in the long drive to the Federal building was to resign from the ATF after Valverde was brought down. It had gotten too hard. He couldn't put his "family" in the line of fire anymore.

Closing his eyes against the pictures replaying in his head, Ezra opened the car door and stepped out. Keeping one hand held out in front of him, he let touch and memory guide him to the elevator. Pressing the button, he called a car. Knowing he could not continue to blindly face the men waiting for him, he opened his eyes when his mode of transportation arrived. Stepping into the elevator, he quickly pressed the number for his floor, ignoring a call to "hold the elevator." He didn't want company on his journey. 

When the car went straight up without stopping, he was both relieved and disappointed. He wasn't in the mood to make small talk, but he also wasn't ready to face his colleagues. 

The ding of a bell preceded the car's abrupt stop at the desired floor. When the doors opened, Ezra hesitated, only exiting when they started to close again. Before he could change his mind, he strode to the door to the office housing Team Seven, and entered. Everything looked so routine it made him ache, knowing he was about to destroy that normalcy. Buck Wilmington was throwing paper airplanes at JD Dunne, who absently dodged as he typed a report into his computer. Nathan Jackson talked into the receiver of the phone held to his ear by a hunched shoulder. His hands were busy sorting a stack of papers. Most painful of all, Chris Larabee was smiling as he reviewed a report with Josiah Sanchez. Ezra wondered if Chris, who had already known so much tragedy in his life, would ever smile again.

"Welcome back, Ez." greeted Buck, directing one of his missiles towards Ezra. "Where's Vin?"

Ezra had always prided himself on his poker face. He knew it had failed him as one by one the faces turning toward him became grim. Ezra opened his mouth to reply, but uncharacteristically found no words could escape his dry throat.

His countenance a thundercloud, his green eyes filled with fear, Chris advanced on Ezra. "You said this was a simple meet. So, where's Vin?"

Knowing his own battered heart would be unable to endure seeing the agony he was about to inflict, Ezra dropped his gaze. "Mr. Valverde had an associate who knew Mr. Tanner. Knew he was an ATF agent."

"What? Who?"

The words, hissed through gritted teeth, made Ezra cringe. "A boy from Purgatorio."

The sound of books slamming to the floor, paper fluttering and glass breaking, brought Ezra's head up. A seething Larabee stood over the contents of what had once sat neatly on Nathan's desk. A picture frame Vin had given the healer on his last birthday lay shattered, cracked glass obscuring Rain Jackson's beautiful face.

"Why are you still alive?" How did you escape?" demanded Chris.

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Ezra stood firm before the glare. "At Mr. Tanner's insistence, I did nothing to prevent Valverde from escorting our colleague from the warehouse. I pretended our relationship was recent, brought about from necessity."

"You coward!"

"Wait a minute, Chris," Josiah protested. "Knowing Ezra and Vin, I'm sure they took the only course of action open to them."

Chris shifted his furious visage to Sanchez. "A course that leaves Ezra alive and Vin dead."

"Come on, Chris." Buck started to put a hand on his friend's shoulder but stopped before it made contact. "You know Ezra didn't sacrifice Vin to save himself."

"Do I?"

"Yes," Buck angrily returned, "you do. You're letting' yer emotions get the better of ya."

"I'm the only one who's being honest here."

Ezra had known this confrontation would not be pleasant. However, he had never expected Larabee's fury to be directed solely towards himself. He had thought Valverde and Fernando would be the focus of his superior's rage. It hurt to discover Chris held him in even lower esteem than an arms dealer and a wayward youth.

A drop of moisture rolled into Ezra's eye, making it sting. He put his hand up and discovered his brow was beaded with sweat. Confused, he stared at the droplets on his fingertips. It had always been a conceit and a blessing that he didn't perspire under stress. The room spun around him. His whole world seemed to be turning upside down.

"I want to know exactly what happened," growled Chris.

Ezra stared at the receding blur that had been his boss. The cotton in his ears made it difficult for him to hear.

"Not now, Chris," Nathan's muffled voice objected.

"Right now," countered Larabee.

"Can't you see the man is going into shock?"

A hand on his shoulder urged Ezra to sit down. He wanted to refuse, finding it repulsive that his expensive suit should make contact with the dirty carpet. However, it was impossible for him to voice his opposition. Other hands pressed gently against his shoulder and cupped his head. His tie was loosened and his legs raised. Almost instantly, he found it easier to breath - until memory kicked in and he remembered Vin's fate. Ezra closed his eyes against the four worried faces, and the single condemning one unable to bear either.

*****

Chris entered his office, slamming the door closed behind him. It wasn't something he did very often. He had always wanted his men to feel they could come to him any time with any problem. Now, however, he was the one with the problem and there was no one he could turn to. Only two men had ever seen his vulnerable side. One was just outside the door, but had obviously changed his allegiance. The other was probably dead.

Though he knew he wasn't being fair to Buck, Chris couldn't change how he felt. He also knew he was being unreasonable in his treatment of Ezra. But, again, logic didn't sway his emotions. Anger was the only thing keeping him from falling apart. He would fuel his passion until he could rebuild his defenses - if he could rebuild them.

This wasn't the first time he had experienced the destruction of his soul. When he lost his wife and son it had taken three years before he decided to live again. In that time, he had come close to losing everything - including the best friend he had ever had. Through it all: the drunken rages, the desire to self-destruct, and the rebuilding, Buck had been there for him. The anguish of those years had damaged the friendship, but had not destroyed it.

Lightening wasn't supposed to strike in the same place twice. Yet, it had. Chris just wished it had hit him, not Vin. He didn't fear death as much as he dreaded being alone.

*****

The moment he recognized Fernando, Vin knew he was going to die. His only worry was that Ezra would accompany him. Vin smiled. He should have known the silver-tongued devil would have all the answers. Even going so far as to threaten Valverde. Admiration and gratitude filled Vin. It had been his choice to live in Purgatorio. Ezra should not have to pay for his colleague's mistake.

Fernando slammed on the brakes in front of a palatial house on the outskirts of Denver. It always angered Vin when he saw how criminals benefited from breaking the law, while honest citizens worked hard and worried about how they would pay their bills. There was some consolation knowing Valverde would be enjoying his amenities for only a few more days. Ezra had promised he would get the arms dealer. Vin had complete confidence in his friend and his team. His only regret was he wouldn't be part of it.

"Put the Fed on ice, boys," ordered Valverde exiting the car.

"Don't ya wanna question him?" Fernando whined. "That Mr. Statton said he'd go to someone else if you didn't get back to him fast."

Indicating the bodyguards should continue, Valverde snarled, "I know what he said, boy."

"But . . ."

Vin wanted to tell Fernando to shut up. Making Valverde angry was not intelligent. As he was led across the driveway and into the house, Vin heard a slap - warning number one. Hopefully, Fernando was smart enough to heed the admonition so a second, more painful, one wouldn't become necessary.

Led down a long hallway, Vin entered the kitchen. The two women busy at the sink ignored their presence. Godzilla opened a narrow door in one corner of the room. Steep stairs led down into a dimly lit cellar. Barely able to keep his balance as he was shoved down the steps, Vin saw there was a smaller room in one corner of the basement.

Sliding back a bold, King Kong, pushed the ATF agent into the unlit compartment. When the door closed behind him and the bold slammed into place, Vin took a relieved breath. It appeared he would get a short reprieve before the questioning began. While the waiting was hell on his nerves it would be a lot worse for the rest of his body when the interrogation began.

More out of boredom than any real hope, he inspected his prison for a way to escape. All his questing hands encountered were bricks and mortar. Shivering in the cold dampness, he stooped in a corner and pulled his coat tighter across his chest. He knew he wouldn't have long to wait. He decided to use the time to bolster his courage. There was little doubt he would need every bit he could muster.

*****

Ezra's hands hovered over his keyboard. Every time he rested his fingers on the keys to type his report their twitching resulted in a string of unrelated letters. He had tried everything to calm down - except close his eyes. This action would only augment his memory of Vin's courageous sacrifice. Ezra didn't need any reminders. Idly, he wondered if he would ever be able to sleep again.

"Is that report ready yet?"

Cringing at Larabee's harsh query, Ezra still had difficulty finding his voice. Dropping his hands in his lap, he shook his head in denial. He didn't need to see Chris' face to know his superior was furious. The slamming of the office door merely reinforced what he already knew.

A juice box appeared on the small portion of desk where his gaze was focused. Glancing up, Ezra's eyes were captured by Nathan's compassionate stare. His throat tightening at the unexpected gesture, the undercover agent quickly looked away, afraid his teammate's commiseration would release the flood of tears threatening to roll down his cheeks.

"You're still in shock, Ezra." Nathan pushed the juice box into the pale man's hand. "Drink this."

Obediently, Ezra took a sip from the straw. It was a measure of the truth of Nathan's diagnosis. He had not used a straw since he was a small child.

"Ya wanna tell us what happened, Ez?" Buck softly encouraged.

Ezra knew he had to reveal the details sometime, even though he knew it would drive his understanding co-workers away from him in disgust. Why should he receive such nurturing when Vin was being tortured? Staring at the blank screen on his monitor, he relayed every detail, every word spoken in the accursed warehouse. He spoke simply, quietly, without embellishing events with his expansive vocabulary. He wanted - he needed - these men to know the specifics of the five minutes that had changed all their lives. As the last word slipped through his lips, he hunched his shoulders, waiting for the condemnation he knew he deserved.

"Did you get all that, JD?" asked Buck.

Confused, Ezra looked up to see the expressions on his teammates' faces had not changed. Except for JD, who had his back to him, the others continued to exude sympathy.

"Yeah," JD confirmed. "I just sent it to the printer."

Josiah crossed to the copier, giving each page a quick glance as he extracted it from the feed tray. Leaving the last sheet on top, he returned to Ezra's desk and placed the report in front of the dazed man.

Putting a pen in Ezra's hand, Buck urged, "Sign it."

"W-what?" Ezra stared dully at the sheet of paper.

"It's your report," explained Nathan. "JD typed it while you were talking."

Buck gently nudged Ezra's elbow. "Sign it and I'll give it to Chris. Once he reads it, he'll realize this wasn't your fault."

"I wouldn't bet money on that assumption, Mr. Wilmington," muttered Ezra. Hoping he was wrong, he took a deep breath to still his shaking hand long enough to write his signature at the bottom of the statement. He was deeply touched by his teammates support. They had surprised him. He had expected them to "hang him out to dry" as Vin would have so colloquially expressed it - if he were here. It was how everyone had always treated him in the past. His whole life had been spent looking for a home, a family. Now, he had finally found one and he was about to lose it. Whoever said "life wasn't fair" had never spoken truer words.

*****

Mentally, Vin was ready when the door opened and the room was flooded with light. As he was pulled to his feet, he tried to keep his body from tensing up. He knew from experience when fist struck taut muscles, it intensified the pain.

"Mr. Tanner," Valverde smugly stood in front of his prisoner, "have you had enough time to contemplate what I'm about to do to you?"

"No," Vin truthfully answered. When he had been thrown in the cell and left alone, Vin had known Valverde was hoping fear would loosen the ATF agent's tongue. Nothing could ever be as bad as the imagination made it out to be. Vin had spent the grace period building his courage.

"Too bad," Valverde tsked in mock sympathy. "I cannot give you more time. Mr. Statton made his intention quite clear."

Adept at interrogation, Godzilla and King Kong needed no verbal orders to proceed. A fist plowed into Vin's abdomen. The force would have been enough to double him over if two mammoth arms had not been holding him up. Two more punches quickly followed.

"Is Mr. Statton an ATF agent?" demanded Valverde.

There was no breath in Vin's body to allow him to answer verbally, so he shook his head. This time the fists connected with his face. One eye was swollen shut and he was tasting blood when the assault halted.

"You know it will get worse, Mr. Tanner," warned Valverde. "Tell me the truth and I will let you die. Is Mr. Statton an ATF agent?"

Carefully studying his captor's face, Vin nodded. "Yes, he is."

A high-pitched laugh echoed in the small room. Wagging a finger in Vin's face, Valverde said, "I do not believe you, Mr. Tanner. If I did, I would kill the man and you know it. You think to outsmart me and get one more arms dealer off the street."

"If you can't believe me," mumbled Vin, "it seems to me you have a problem."

"I do not believe you, now," Valverde emphasized. "Once the torture really begins, you will be more truthful. Pain will make it impossible for you to lie."

The assertion was made with such conviction, Vin started to believe it. His faith faltered for a mere second before strengthening. There was one thing Valverde didn't know. Ezra Stratton was an ATF agent, but he was also a friend. Valverde had only ever dealt with people like Fernando. People who put themselves first, who didn't understand the word friendship. If Vin betrayed Ezra, it would be worse than any physical pain Valverde could inflict. 

******

His binoculars trained on the old warehouse, Chris watched Ezra and his "bodyguard" enter through a side door. His job forced Chris to allow the undercover agent to put himself in the line of fire for a second time. His conscience wouldn't allow him to stay away as he had done with the first meet. Though he was too far away to be of any assistance if Valverde started shooting.

Strangely, Chris trusted Ezra. He would con the arms dealer into selling him the guns, just as he had made Valverde believe Vin was the only ATF agent. Ezra was good at his job. This should have made Chris feel relief, not anger. Why couldn't that silver-tongued devil have found someway to save Vin? Chris wasn't sure if he could ever forgive Ezra for his failure. Even though he knew if he didn't, what was left of Team 7 would be destroyed.

*****

Ezra wished he could rub his tired eyes. However, to do so would be a sign of weakness. Proof to those who were watching that he had not slept the night before. He hadn't even been able to close his eyes. Each time he did, he saw Vin's battered and bleeding body. The picture was so real it made Ezra wonder if what he saw was a figment of his imagination or real.

A sense of déjà vu struck him as he glanced around the recently abandoned warehouse. Except for the location of the building and the man at his side, it was a replay of the day before. Ezra glanced at Todd Bolanger from Team 4. Afraid Fernando might recognize the remainder of Team 7, it had been decided that someone from another unit would act as Ezra's bodyguard. It was a decision that had increased Larabee's anger. Now they would have to share the bust. At least, that was the excuse Chris gave for his ire. Ezra knew the man was in pain and trying to bury it in work. When this was all over, both of them would pay the price for their denial.

For Ezra, it meant change. A change from the security he had felt since joining the unique individuals of Team 7. He had never doubted their ability to protect him. No matter who had been at his side, he had never felt vulnerable. He did now. He just hoped the unfamiliar emotion wouldn't put him off his game. Valverde would be watching him closely, looking for any sign of duplicity. If he found any, he would rabbit, and Ezra would lose his chance to avenge Vin.

This time, bright sunlight followed Valverde into the dingy warehouse along with the two bodyguards and Fernando. Ezra found himself resenting the sun. Why had it been hiding in Vin's last hours? Why couldn't Vin's last view of the world been filled with light and beauty?

"Mr. Statton, I'm glad to see you could make it on such short notice," said Valverde. With a meaningful glance at the man by Ezra's shoulder, he added, "I hope you chose your bodyguard more wisely this time."

"I thought I chose adequately in our previous meeting," countered Ezra, unable to totally ignore the slight towards Vin.

"Would you be surprised if I told you Mr. Tanner identified you as an ATF agent?"

Ezra felt Bolanger stiffen. Hoping the man hadn't blown their cover, Ezra forced a smile. "It's hardly unexpected that Mr. Tanner would try to take me down with him. After all, it's his duty to get people like me off the streets. If he can make us kill each other he's done his job."

"That was my interpretation as well." Valverde returned the smile.

Amazed and grateful for Vin's intuition, Ezra asked, "Does this mean we can make a deal?"

"It does."

Well done, Mr. Tanner, well done, Ezra silently praised. Thanks to you I will be able to keep my promise. 

"Give me a list of your needs." Valverde held out his hand for the paper. "I will contact you again with the where and when."

Ezra handed over the inventory, careful to keep his hand from touching Valverde's. He wasn't sure if he could hide his revulsion if they should make contact.

"Until later, Mr. Statton." Valverde turned and retraced his steps to the SUV parked outside.

It took every bit of strength Era possessed to force his own feet to cover the short distance to their car. It wouldn't be long now and he would have fulfilled his vow to Vin. It was the only thing keeping Ezra going.

*****

Dry heaves tore at Vin's abused stomach. Empty of any other contents, bile forced its way up his esophagus to his throat, spewing out of his mouth. Too weak and sore to move away, he closed his eyes to shut out the vile sight. He only wished he could close off his sense of smell as easily. He had given up trying to catalogue the damage. Instead, he concentrated on staying as motionless as possible now that the more painful injuries had gone from mind numbing agony to a more bearable ache. Even breathing was causing its own unending discomfort.

He tried to tell himself his suffering didn't matter. Valverde had bought his act. There was no doubt in Vin's mind that Chris and the rest of the team would bust the arms dealer and put him in jail for a very long time. The guns the team kept off the street would save a lot of lives. It was all very noble of him and all a lie. He would do anything to end his pain, including putting Valverde back on the street.

"We're ba-a-a-a-ck, Mr. Tanner."

Valverde's announcement made Vin jerk in surprise. The movement reawakened his nerve endings and the transmitters routing the pain. His bloody, swollen lips were unable to suppress a groan.

"Ah, then you are still with us, Mr. Tanner. I win."

"Win?" Vin mumbled.

"I bet Fernando that you would be alive. He thought you would be dead."

Vin spit the blood from his mouth. "Glad to be of service."

"A sense of humor. I love a man with a sense of humor." Valverde bent at the waist to bring himself down to Vin's eye level, the eye that wasn't swollen shut. "Let's see if you find my new game entertaining."

A snap of the arms dealer's fingers brought the two bodyguards into the small room. One was carrying a box, the other a rope. Vin eyed the items with dread, realizing they would be instrumental in the criminal's "game".

"Set things up the way I told you," instructed Valverde.

King Kong threw one end of the rope around a pipe running across the ceiling. He tied it off before making the other end into a noose. Vin knew what was coming as Godzilla placed the box under the loop. He tried to brace himself as the bodyguards hauled him to his feet but he was unable to suppress a scream. Dragged on top of the box, he quickly put his weight on his good, left leg. The hangman's knot was dropped over his head and tightened, forcing him to raise his chin. The rough hemp dug into the tender flesh, making it difficult for him to breathe. "Isn't killing a man this way a bit old-fashioned for you, Valverde?" rasped Vin.

"I'm not going to kill you," corrected the arms dealer. "You're going to kill yourself. How long can you stand like that before death looks inviting?"

"As long as I have to," Vin returned.

"Very bravely spoken, Mr. Tanner. We shall see."

The three men exited the room, leaving Vin alone with his thoughts and his pain. Neither of which promised a long future.

*****

Chris pressed the transmitter deeper into his ear, listening to the deal going down. He was glad he had read Valverde right. He had put a sniper in the rafters of the first warehouse, hoping Valverde would feel comfortable returning to where he had first met with Ezra Statton. Chris had been proved correct. Which meant Ezra and Bolanger weren't entirely without backup. Although, Chris wished it was Vin hiding in the shadows, backing up his fellow agents. Chris had a feeling he would be making that wish a lot in the days ahead. A realization that made him wonder if it was time to retire.

"It's going down, Chris," Buck hoarsely whispered. "That silver-tongued devil's done it again."

Even as he recognized the truth of Buck's statement, Chris felt the anger and resentment inside him reignite. He wanted Ezra to succeed, if for no other reason than to catch the men responsible for Vin's death. The problem with that was he felt Ezra was equally accountable. However, Chris couldn't initiate his revenge on his fellow agent. As far as he was concerned, Ezra's crime would go unpunished.

"It's been nice doing business with you. Mr. Statton."

The last word had barely left Valverde's mouth before Chris called, "We've got him, everyone more in."

Is pistol in his hand, Chris slipped up to the man guarding the back door. "Drop your gun."

The surprised guard had barely complied when Chris grabbed his shoulder and pushed him toward Buck.

"I've got him, Chris," hissed the ladies man.

With a nod of acknowledgement, Chris opened the door and cautiously entered. Sighting his weapon until it pointed at the arms dealer's heart, Chris said, "Don't move, Valverde, you're under arrest."

One of the bodyguards reached for his gun. His fingers had barely touched the butt when a shot from the rafters entered his torso, dropping him.

His own weapon trained on the other bodyguard, Nathan knelt to check for a pulse. "He's still alive."

Certain Vin would have made a cleaner shot, Chris ordered, "JD, call for an ambulance."

Ignoring the dying man at his feet and the ATF agents glaring at him, Valverde smiled at Ezra. "So, Mr. Statton you won this round thanks to your friend Mr. Tanner. But the game is not over."

"I didn't win," Ezra softly contradicted.

"Chris," JD's voice yelled down the line, making everyone wince, "the judge signed the subpoena. We can search Valverde's house."

The announcement had been loud enough for Valverde to hear. He smiled. "I never lose a bet."

Puzzled by the cryptic remark, Chris turned to the head of Team 4. "Joe, you want to take these scumbags in and get started on the paperwork? We'll join you after we search the house."

"Sure, Chris," Joe Monroe agreed.

The compassion in the other man's eyes almost more than he could endure, Chris addressed his team. "Let's go."

*****

Ezra stared up at the palatial house. Normally, he would be feeling envy. This time, all he felt was uncertainty. Would they find Vin's body inside? On the one hand, he hoped they did; first because Vin deserved more than an anonymous hole in the ground; and second, because the murder of a federal agent would get Valverde the death penalty. However, Ezra also knew the sight of his friend's corpse would destroy what little control he had left.

"All right." Chris stepped up to the front door and pulled his gun. "Josiah, you, Nathan and Ezra search the ground floor. Buck, you and JD will help me check out the second floor."

Drawing his weapon, more to protect his teammates than himself, Ezra followed the others inside. Josiah walked straight ahead, while Nathan went to the right. His own direction chosen for him, Ezra turned left and found himself in the kitchen. It was clear the original occupants had left in a hurry. Partially chopped vegetables were scattered across a cutting board. On the counter, a gallon of milk sat next to an empty glass.

His hands trembling, Ezra opened every cupboard door with methodical precision until he reached a tall, narrow door in the far corner of the room. Opening it, he was surprised to find stairs leading down into a cellar. Finding a switch, he turned on the lights and slowly descended. Though the basement was large, extending almost the length of the house, it was practically empty. Shiny, apparently unused, tools hung on the wall above a work bench. It was the only sign anyone had known of the cellar's existence. A small room took up one corner. Ezra could see a lock on the bolt holding the door closed. It wasn't engaged, telling him what was inside wasn't important.

Unhooking the lock, he braced himself bringing his gun to bear, and swung the door open. Light from the fixture above his head spilled into the small enclosure, revealing Vin hanging from a pipe.

Ezra felt ill, his legs wobbled, threatening to terminate their support. He had known Valverde would kill Vin, but why had he chosen this method? There were few ways more horrible to die.

"Ez - z?"

It took Ezra a precious few seconds to realize the raspy sound he heard was his own name. Rushing forward, he climbed on the box propping Vin up to keep the rope from tightening even more around the bruised throat. Ignoring the cry of pain his hold elicited, Ezra keyed his radio. "Nathan, I'm in the basement and desperately need your assistance."

"How do I get down there?"

Glad the healer wasn't wasting time with unnecessary questions, Ezra explained, "There's a door in the north end of the kitchen."

"I'm on my way."

Relieved, Ezra encouraged, "Hold on, Vin."

"What have you got, Ezra?"

Prepared for Chris' enquiry, Ezra tried to keep his voice professional as he revealed, "I have located Mr. Tanner,and he is alive."

Pounding feet on the stairs announced the arrival of Nathan and Josiah. Ezra knew the others wouldn't be far behind. He just hoped they released Vin before Larabee's arrival. Despite their differences, Ezra didn't want his superior to see this hideous sight.

"Ezra, Josiah, hold Vin while I cut this rope," instructed Nathan.

Though he knew he was causing his friend more pain, Ezra complied. Falling to the ground would cause the injured man untold damage.

As soon as the noose was cut, Vin's head dropped, coming to rest on Ezra's shoulder. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Ezra assured, "We've got you, Vin."

"Bring him out here into the light," ordered Nathan, backing out into the open basement.

More feet thumping down the stairs broadcast the advent of Chris, Buck and JD. Ezra ignored them, his attention focused on Vin Tanner.

"Is there an ambulance on the way, Chris?" asked Nathan.

"Should be here in five minutes," Chris acknowledged, his voice gruff. "How's Vin?" 

"Hurt bad, but he's alive."

Assessing what he could see of Vin's injuries: the hemp imbedded in the soft flesh of his neck, the mangled fingers on both hands, the broken right leg, and the bruises on his face and torso, Ezra wasn't so sure Vin would be happy to be alive - at least for a while.

*****

Chris paced the waiting room, worry and anger made it impossible for him to sit calmly anticipating the ER doctor's diagnosis. He desperately wanted to see his friend's blue eyes again and hear the raspy voice telling anyone who would listen that he was fine. At no time during the long ambulance ride to the hospital did Chris get his wish. Vin had lain unnaturally still from the moment Chris first saw him on the basement floor in Valverde's house, until the gurney was wheeled into a treatment room. Chris was afraid they had found their friend too late. He wasn't sure his bruised and battered spirit could endure the pain of losing Vin a second time. He almost wished Ezra had never gone into that basement, never opened the door, never found Vin alive.

Softly cursing himself, Chris clutched his hands into fist, squeezing until the blood was leached from his flesh. How could he wish his best friend dead? What kind of monster was he?'

The sound of shuffling feet tore Chris from his dark thoughts. Spinning around, he saw the doctor who had disappeared with Vin into the treatment room upon their arrival. Trying to read the physician's impassive face, Chris stepped forward. "How's Vin?

His eyes briefly studying each of the six men, the doctor gently revealed, "Mr. Tanner is on his way to the OR. He's bleeding internally and I couldn't stop it."

"Can we see him?" Chris wasn't sure why he asked the question when he already knew the answer. To be truthful, even if the doctor allowed him to see Vin, he wasn't sure he could. He knew seeing the battered body would only serve to enhance his rage.

"I'm sorry." The physician apologetically shook his head. "He's being prepped for surgery. I'll have someone show you to the OR waiting room."

Unable to keep the bitterness from his voice, Chris snapped, "We know the way."

"Yes, well." The young doctor uneasily backed away. "I better go, I have other patients."

Already knowing the others would follow, Chris exited the room and crossed to the elevator. He took some of his aggression out on the UP button. They were exchanging one waiting area for another. However, the same worry and anger would keep him company in both. He wouldn't be shifting feelings, only location.

*****

The deck of cards in Ezra's hand dug into the soft flesh of his palm. Manipulating the pieces of cardboard usually calmed his nerves. Unfortunately, this was an unusual occasion. He had already played fifty-two card pickup twice. Both times, Nathan and JD had helped him retrieve the scattered deck. And, each time, he had received a glare from Chris Larabee that should have impaled Ezra where he stood. Though he tried to pretend he didn't care what Chris thought of him, he was too honest with himself not to acknowledge the estrangement with Larabee and feel profoundly hurt by it. Finding Vin, hadn't perceptively altered Chris' mood.

"Chris," Josiah gently addressed their leader, "it's been six hours. If you don't try to relax, you're going to make yourself sick. That won't do Vin any good."

Chris shifted the glare to Sanchez.

"Josiah's right, Chris," Buck supported the profiler.

"Ea tu, Brutus?" The sarcasm was heavy in Chris' tone.

Dropping his head in his hands, Buck grumbled, "Fine, make your self sick. Just don't expect me to soothe your fevered brow or make you chicken soup."

"I never do."

Though relieved to have Chris' ire directed elsewhere, Ezra was alarmed by the treatment his teammates were receiving. He knew they were becoming targets in his stead. While touched by their support, he was unwilling to see the team destroyed for him. Once he knew Vin would be all right, he fully intended to tender his resignation.

"Is there someone here for Vin Tanner?"

The six men forgot their differences and converged on the doctor standing in the doorway. His ability to speak deserting him, Ezra was grateful when Nathan asked the question they had been waiting so desperately to hear the answer to.

"How's Vin, doctor?"

The physician pointed to the chairs. "I'm Dr. Nolan, why don't we sit down, this could take a while?"

"Just tell us," ordered Chris.

Rubbing blood-shot eyes, the doctor stumbled to the nearest chair. "Even if you're not going to, I need to sit down."

Never taking his gaze off the tired surgeon, Ezra took the chair closest to him. He needed to know Vin's status. If sitting would hasten the revelation, he would sit.

"Mr. Tanner is in critical but stable condition," revealed Nolan. "Whoever worked him over knew what they were doing to cause the maximum amount of pain with the minimum damage."

"What," Nathan's voice cracked, "what did they do?"

"What didn't they do would be easier." The doctor scrubbed his face with his hands. "He has a concussion, a ruptured orbit of his right eye and a broken lower jaw. And that's just the beginning."

Dropping his head, Ezra hid his face from the others. As each atrocity, each broken bone was exposed, he felt as though someone was stabbing him in the chest.

"Mr. Tanner had a torn windpipe, which was repaired after we removed the ruptured spleen. He has three broken ribs, two cracked, a broken left wrist and collarbone, and all the fingers on both hands were crushed."

"You call that minimum damage?" Buck gasped.

Unable to control his queasy stomach any longer, Ezra hastily stumbled to a garbage can and emptied his stomach. He wasn't surprised when no one crossed to assist him. Without looking, he knew each was dealing with what they were hearing in their own way.

"His right knee is smashed and both ankles and feet have broken or cracked bones. There are bruises on his lungs, kidneys and heart."

"W-w-what n-now?" stuttered JD.

"We've set the broken bones, but he still needs surgeries on the ruptured orbit and knee."

Visibly pale, Nathan softly asked, "When will those be done?"

"He lost a lot of blood. Once we feel he's strong enough, he'll go back into surgery."

"Can we see him?"

"He won't know you're there."

"He'll know," Chris contradicted.

Ezra knew Larabee was right. Vin needed to know he wasn't alone anymore. The foul odor of his stomach's contents wafting around his head, Ezra closed his eyes, waiting for the physician's decision.

"It will have to be one at a time," directed Nolan. Rising, he added, "I'll inform the nursing staff."

As much as he wanted to see Vin, Ezra wasn't sure the feeling would be reciprocated. Would Vin blame him for the months - years - of suffering he would endure as the injuries slowly healed? Ezra didn't have Nathan's medical knowledge, but he knew enough to know Vin was in for a long, painful recovery. Sometimes, being alive wasn't always tolerable.

*****

When the nurse arrived to escort one of them to the ICU, Chris crossed to her side. There was no question he would be the first to visit Vin. However, as soon as he walked in the glass enclosed room, Chris wished he had prepared himself first. He stood in the doorway fighting the bile rising in his throat. Vin was practically surrounded by machines. Each one had wires and tubes leading from it attached to some part of Vin's body. It looked like something from a horror movie.

Traveling carefully through the maze, Chris lifted a hand desperately needing to feel the warm flesh to confirm his friend was alive. There was no spot that wasn't broken, bruised, bandaged, or covered with medical equipment. How could he offer comfort if he couldn't touch Vin?

"Vin, it's Chris." Envying Ezra's glib tongue, Chris bent close to his friend's ear. "We got Valverde, you're safe. He can't hurt you anymore."

Chris wasn't sure but he thought Vin was listening to him. It almost seemed as it the abused body had relaxed.

Encouraged, Chris continued, "We'll watch your back. Me, or one of the boys will always be with you. You just concentrate on getting better."

Now that he had made the promise, Chris knew he had to keep it. Not that it would be difficult. Vin was a witness who could put Valverde away for the rest of his life. Besides being desirable, protective custody was imperative. Valverde had a lot of money. Enough to buy anything - even the life of an ATF agent.

*****

As the pain in his knee sharpened, Vin tried to shift his body. His muddled brain insisted he move away from the source of his agony. He fought the automatic reaction, knowing to obey the command would only intensify the discomfort, just as it had every other time he had tried to shift any part of his body. Or whenever the nurses and doctors did whatever they deemed necessary to help him recover. At least, that's what they said they were doing. To Vin, it was almost as though he was being tortured again. Although, unlike his sessions with Valverde, he couldn't scream to release his pain the damaged windpipe and broken jaw prevented him from venting his distress.

In an effort to keep hi mind off his affliction Vin concentrated on Ezra's voice glad it was the Southerner's turn to guard him. The man was interesting. In addition, his diverse vocabulary forced Vin to concentrate so he understood what was being said. This kept his mind off the pain.

Of all his friends, Ezra and Josiah were the best at distracting him. Strangely, the worst was Chris. He would often spend his entire visit in total silence. Once, Vin would have found his friend's presence satisfying and enjoyed their time together. Words had not been important between them. Now, Vin found himself needing the pain medication more often with Chris than he did with the others. The really frustrating thing was he couldn't even tell his friend the problem. Between the torn windpipe and broken jaw, Vin couldn't talk, while the broken fingers prevented him from writing. Tapping a splinted finger once for yes and twice for no was his sole form of communication.

When Ezra paused in his story and shifted to allow a nurse to change an IV bag, Vin let his gaze rest on his fellow agent. He didn't think he had ever seen Ezra look quite so disheveled, except when he was undercover. Ezra's hair needed a trim, there were bags under his bloodshot eyes and he seemed unable to sit still for any length of time. Even to Vin's uneducated eye, Ezra was clearly close to a physical and mental collapse. If he could see it in his drugged state why couldn't anyone else?

The more Vin thought about it, the more he realized Ezra rarely came to visit with the others as a group. The few times Ezra relieved Chris - or visa versa - on guard duty, they never spoke a word to each other. Clearly, something had transpired between the two men. Intuition told Vin he was the cause.

Again, he cursed his inability to speak. It was almost funny that he, of all people, would miss being able to talk. If he could laugh without killing himself, he would.

*****

Ezra could feel Vin's eyes on him. As soon as the nurse completed her chore, he hastily moved back to the chair and out of Vin's line of sight. He knew he was being unnecessarily cruel to his injured friend. But he also knew how perceptive Vin was, and right now, Ezra wanted Vin to concentrate on healing.

He had postponed submitting his resignation for this very reason. Whatever little he could do to aid Vin's recovery he would. He owed his friend that much and more. Besides, his position allowed him to visit Vin. As a civilian, he wouldn't have that privilege.

In the two months since the disastrous first meeting with Valverde, Ezra had rarely slept. He went to bed and closed his eyes onto have sleep elude his desperate grasp. The few times he had slept longer than a few hours it had ended in horrible nightmares where Ezra watched Vin tortured over and over again. Ezra would wake up screaming. A few times he had shrieked so loud and so long his throat was sore. Recently, a neighbor had summoned the police, certain someone was murdering Ezra in his bed.

These were things Ezra didn't want Vin to know about. It would only dishearten his sensitive friend. For once, Ezra was grateful for the training he had received under his mother's tutelage. He had never needed his skills more. He just never thought he would be using them to con a friend, particularly this friend. It was a good thing he would be handing in his resignation soon. Everything he did added to his guilt.

*****

Walking down the corridor, Chris studied the two men standing guard outside Vin's hospital room. As the date for Valverde's trial drew closer Chris had decided to increase the protective net he had spun around Vin. He and the boys would continue to take turns watching over Vin from inside his room, while the additional security in the corridor would discourage any assault on Vin. No amount of money was worth the effort if you weren't alive to enjoy it.

His game face in place, Chris strode into Vin's room as though he didn't have a care in the world. It was the first time in his acquaintance with the sharpshooter that he had found it necessary to hide his feelings. Even if Vin was strong enough to deal with his friend's emotional baggage, Chris wasn't ready to share. It was doubtful he ever would be. If he couldn't understand his feelings how could he explain them to someone else?

"Hey, Buck." Chris greeted his old friend, forcing a smile. "How's Vin?"

Chris hated talking about Vin as though he wasn't there but unless he talked to the doctor or nurses, there was no other way to track Vin's progress. It wasn't as though Vin could tell him.

"He just got back from physical therapy," Buck softly revealed, moving away from Vin's bedside.

One look at the strained, pale face told Chris the exercises weren't getting any easier for the injured man. It had become another form of punishment, one Chris couldn't rescue him from if Vin was to lead a normal life.

"I'll take it from here." Chris patted Buck on the arm.

Buck nodded agreement. "I'll see you both tomorrow." Flashing Vin an encouraging smile, Buck opened the door. 

Once the ladies' man was hidden from Vin's view, Chris saw the strong shoulders slump in dejection. It was the first time Chris had evidence someone else was playing a role when he visited Vin. It made Chris wonder if the rest of the team felt the same as he and Buck. The only one showing any physical signs was Ezra. Guiltily, Chris realized he was probably as much to blame for the undercover agent's deterioration as Vin. Several times, Chris thought he should apologize to Ezra. He knew Standish wasn't to blame for Vin's condition. But every time he came face to face with Ezra, the anger would flare up and he would walk away, knowing if he opened his mouth he would just make things worse.

Resolutely focusing on his friend, Chris asked, "Can I get you anything, Vin?"

The blue eyes glared balefully at Chris, speaking words his mouth couldn't. Silently cursing his insensitivity, Chris hastily amended, "Would you like some water?"

Vin's right index finger tapped once.

Receiving a "yes" to his question, Chris crossed to the pitcher and poured water into the special cup. Positioning the straw around the wired jaw, he waited patiently as Vin slowly sipped the cool liquid. For once, Chris didn't care how long Vin took to swallow the fluid. He used the time to search for something to say. In the past, he and Vin had never needed to speak out loud to communicate. All that had changed since the attack. Now, when they needed it most, their "link" had been broken. Chris no longer felt comfortable around his best friend.

A tapping sound drew Chris' attention. Shocked, he realized Vin's index finger was rapidly bouncing up and down, hard enough to cause the injured digit damage.

"Vin stop that." Chris gently captured Vin's hand with his own. As he did, he became aware of a thumping sound outside the door. Realizing Vin had been trying to warn him, Chris quickly drew his weapon. He was ready when the assassin burst into the room. A single shot to the heart dropped the gunman in the doorway. His pistol trained on the unmoving body, Chris snatched the silenced revolver from the limp hand and put it in the waistband of his jeans. Kneeling, he checked the body for a pulse. He wasn't surprised, nor upset, when he didn't find one. The man had tried to kill Vin, he didn't deserve to live.

Checking the two bodies in the corridor, Chris was gratified to see there was no blood. Finding the carotid artery beating slow and regular in both men, Chris sighed with relief. He knew all the guards had been angry with him for making them wear bullet proof vests. He had a feeling no one would fight him again. Even so, the gunman had gotten close enough for the force of the shots to slam the two men against the wall knocking them out. The physical pain they would be feeling was nothing compared to the tongue-lashing they would receive.

The yells and screams of the nursing staff penetrating his conscious, Chris straightened and returned to Vin's bedside well aware his friend had just saved his life since he wasn't wearing a bullet proof vest. "Thanks, pard."

*****

As he listened to Nathan's one-sided conversation, Ezra felt himself grow cold. It became difficult for him to breathe. It was clear from the few words the healer had spoken that someone had tried to kill Vin. Nathan's reaction to the news had been fear and anger. The lack of grief told Ezra the endeavor had been unsuccessful. The realization barely penetrated the panic engulfing him.

Fighting to fill empty lungs his alarm increased when he felt his chair pulled away from his desk. A hand against his neck gently pushed him forward until his head was between his knees.

"Easy, Ezra," Nathan calmly encouraged, "everything's all right."

The familiar soothing voice brought Ezra back from the edge of the abyss. Glad no one else was in the office to witness his fainting spell, he felt the blood rush to his head.

"Just take some deep breaths," advised Nathan. "I'm gonna call Buck and JD. They're closest to the hospital and can go give Chris a hand. Then I'll be back."

Grateful to have a few minutes of privacy to regain control, Ezra nodded his understanding. By the time Nathan returned, he was sitting up flipping through a file on his desk trying to appear as normal as possible. He wasn't actually looking for anything, he just wanted to appear busy, hoping it would discourage Nathan from offering any further assistance. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate his friend's concern, Ezra just found it difficult to know how to respond. Even after more than a year on the team, he didn't know how to react to or reciprocate, acts of friendship.

"Ezra, when did you eat last?" Nathan probed.

He should have known nothing would deter Nathan Jackson in what he saw as his duty - maintaining the health of his teammates. Knowing Nathan would not be ignored, Ezra indignantly replied, "I had dinner before coming here."

"And what did this dinner consist of?"

Conceding defeat, Ezra whispered, "A cup of yogurt."

"And?"

"And nothing. I wasn't hungry," defended Ezra.

Nathan snorted disgustedly. "From the looks of you, ya ain't been hungry for months."

The observation was unexpectedly accurate. Ezra had barely eaten enough to keep him alive since Vin had been taken. Food had no taste. It was often difficult to keep it down long enough to provide nourishment. All he had to do, was remember Vin hanging from the ceiling of that basement to empty his stomach. 

Dropping onto the chair next to Ezra's desk, Nathan softly chastised, "What happened to Vin wasn't your fault, Ezra."

"Tell that to Vin," Ezra quietly challenged.

"I don't have to, he already knows."

Though desperately wishing it was true, Ezra shook his head in disbelief. "How can you know what Mr. Tanner is thinking? Have you acquired Mr. Larabee's abilities to read his mind?"

"I don't need to read Vin's mind," said Nathan. "I know the kind of man he is."

"No man knows another that well."

"I know him well enough to know he doesn't blame you."

"How can he not?" To his embarrassment, Ezra had to fight back tears of guilt.

Leaning his elbows on his knees, Nathan earnestly pointed out, "Vin is a fair man. If you had been the one who was made, instead of Vin, what would you have done differently, Ezra?"

For the first time, Ezra put himself in Vin's shoes and he truly believed there had been nothing either of them could have done to change the outcome. He would not have wanted Vin to die for him, any more than Vin wanted Ezra to die. "There was nothing I could have done," Ezra finally whispered.

"Now, how do you think it makes Vin feel seeing you slowly killing yourself?" 

"His own recovery has been quite painful," reminded Ezra. "I doubt he's noticed me at all."

"Even blinded by pain, Vin sees everything and you know it. If he could, he would be cursing you out."

A gentle smile that had been missing for months curved Ezra's lips. "I am certain he would."

"So, what are you going to do about it?" Nathan demanded.

"Get a haircut and eat a decent meal," promised Ezra. "Would that be your prescription, Mr. Jackson?"

"It would, Mr. Standish."

Feeling almost human again, Ezra returned to finish the pile of work on his desk. He needed to get home and get some sleep, he had a lot to do tomorrow before his scheduled shift with Vin.

*****

While the doctor checked Vin's windpipe and larynx, Chris could barely contain his excitement. A quick glance at Buck, Josiah and Nathan showed his friends were equally on edge. It had been two months since they had heard that raspy voice and they had all missed it more than it seemed possible. Chris was only sorry JD and Ezra were holding down the fort at the office. It had been a long time since all seven of them had been together. Chris knew it was mainly his fault. He couldn't blame Ezra for avoiding him. The anger he felt whenever he saw the Southerner was still a mystery to Chris.

"Now, Mr. Tanner," the doctor warned, "try not to talk too much or speak above a whisper. Your cords are still healing. You don't want to re-injure them."

"We'll make sure he doesn't, Doctor," Nathan replied with a meaningful look at Vin.

Vin nodded his understanding, but it wasn't until the door closed behind the physician that he spoke his first words in months. "Larabee, what the hell did you do to Ezra?"

"W-what?" Stuttered Chris, surprised by the attack. He looked to the others for support, only to see all three with smirks on their faces.

"Tell him, Stud," said Buck, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the wall.

About to proclaim his innocence, Chris took one look at Vin's determined face and admitted, "I blamed him for what happened to you."

"That's crazy."

"He left you behind," Chris argued.

"'Cause there was nothin' else he could do."

Stubbornly, Chris defended, "I didn't see it that way."

"You weren't there." His voice dropping a notch, Vin caught Chris' eyes with his own. "If ya can't agree that me and Ez did the best job we could, then I think we'll have ta transfer to another team."

Shocked, Chris shook his head, unable to verbally express his chagrin. He had never expected, never wanted Ezra to leave, and he certainly couldn't bear it if Vin transferred. There were only six men he trusted to protect Vin's life - and his own. Though he had trouble admitting it to anyone else, Ezra Standish was one of them.

"Now that you're better, Vin," said Josiah, "I think Chris will start thinking rationally again."

"Ain't right," Vin insisted. "What if I hadn't survived? Would ya still blame Ez?"

Chris averted his gaze. He honestly wasn't sure if he would have come to his senses. So much of the man he had become since Sarah and Adam's deaths, he attributed to Vin.

As though he were the one who could read Larabee's mind, Josiah revealed, "I'm sure Chris would have come around, Vin. He was never angry with Ezra, he was mad at you."

"Why would I be mad at Vin?" Even as the protest left Chris's lips it lacked conviction.

"You couldn't take your indignation out on Vin," continued Josiah. "First, because you thought he was dead, then, because he was in so much pain. But your rage needed an outlet --"

"Ya used Ezra as yer punching bag," finished Vin, a touch of disappointment in his voice.

Once again, Chris wanted to deny the accusation but couldn't. Bewildered, he dropped onto a chair next to Vin's bed. "Why was I mad at Vin?"

"I could be wrong," Josiah confessed, "however, my guess would be because living in Purgatorio almost got him killed, as you always tried to tell him it would, and he wouldn't listen."

"Well, he's listening now," Chris quietly asserted, glaring at the sharpshooter. "We already got yer stuff out of your apartment and moved it to my place. Don't even think about trying to move back."

"It wouldn't do any good anyway," said Buck. "Someone's already rented the apartment."

"Weren't thinkin' of goin' back." Vin's stiff, healing fingers plucked at the blanket covering him. "It was all right when it was only my life in danger. But my livin' there almost got Ezra killed. Ain't gonna take a chance of letting that happen to none of you all again."

Chris complacently leaned back in his chair. "Glad you're seeing things my way." 

"Stop lookin' so smug, Cowboy," warned Vin. "It don't mean I'm letting ya run my life. And, I ain't fergettin' what ya done to Ez."

"I can live with that," Chris agreed. As long as Vin was alive, Chris knew he could handle anything life threw at him. Though apologizing to Ezra was near the top of the list of things he hoped he would never have to do.

Gently pushing Buck and Josiah toward the door, Nathan decided, "You've talked enough fer now, Vin. Ya better git some sleep 'fore yer next PT session."

"I'm fine, Nate," protested Vin.

"Humor me," Nathan pleaded.

Realizing Vin's voice had grown even raspier than normal, Chris snarled, "He will."

"I told ya, Larabee," Vin snapped, "ya ain't runnin' my life."

"Fine," Chris amiably agreed. "Nathan, Buck and Josiah are leaving. You can lay there and talk to yourself."

Not even trying to hide the broad grin on his face, Buck waved goodbye. "Wish we could stay to see who wins this round boys, but we gotta go."

"Bye, Vin." Josiah followed on Buck's heels.

Shaking his head, Nathan advised, "Stop being so stubborn, Vin. I'll see ya tonight."

Alone with his friend, Chris asked, "Is Nathan trying to run your life, too?"

"Yes!"

Chris could tell Vin had tried to growl his reply but the sore throat prevented him from speaking with any heat. "Good," said Chris. "I just wanted to clarify our position."

*****

Vin impatiently waited for JD to finish his story and leave. Ezra had arrived to take over guard duty and he desperately needed to talk to him. This was the first time he had seen Ezra since he had gotten his voice back and the wires removed from his jaw. He knew they had a lot to talk about, even though the Ezra Standish standing next to his bed was a vast improvement from the one who had been his companion these last few months. The reddish-brown hair was combed and trimmed, the clothes fashionable and immaculate. Ezra was still a little thin, but Vin knew weight could not be lost or gained overnight. The previous changes were a sign the weight would return soon as well.

"I guess I better get going," decided JD.

Guiltily focusing his attention on his young friend, Vin said, "Have fun with Casey tonight."

"Thanks, Vin." Practically running to the door, JD offered, "I'll see you guys tomorrow."

The pneumonic hinges had barely dragged the door closed when Vin allowed, "You look a little better, Ez. What happened?"

"Mr. Jackson."

Disappointed that Chris wasn't responsible for the reformation, Vin asked, "What did Nate do?"

"He pointed out the error of my ways." Sitting in a chair next to the bed, Ezra confessed, "I felt I was culpable in what happened to you."

"Chris --"

"Mr. Larabee wasn't responsible for my censure." Ezra amended, "At least not entirely. I kept thinking there was more I could have done to save you."

"There wasn't."

"I know, but I wasn't certain you did." Ezra dropped his eyes. "I could live with Mr. Larabee's condemnation. I could not live with yours."

Puzzled, Vin shook his head. "I told you not to do anything, that it would get us both killed."

"Logic and guilt are two emotions that are not always compatible. Mr. Larabee's belief that I should have done something only substantiated my own conviction."

"You was both wrong," grumbled Vin.

Ezra brushed at nonexistent lint on his jacket's lapel. "Even now that is difficult to realize. Watching you suffer makes it that much harder to accept."

"Ya don't have to watch," announced Vin. "I could have ya both banned from my room."

"I didn't mean watch in the literal sense, Mr. Tanner, and you know it. Banishing us would not make our sin easier to bear."

Vin sighed. "Then what would? What can I do to make it easier fer you and Chris?"

"Nothing," confessed Ezra. "Time is all that can help us now."

"Time heals all wounds, huh?"

"Circumstances often reveal the truth of old adages."

"Yer gonna be all right?"

"Yes."

The simplicity of the reply finally convinced Vin. "I told Chris if he couldn't let go of what happened, you and me would be transferrin' to a new team." Vin was surprised to see shock suffusing Ezra's pale features. Obviously, the undercover agent had not expected such a revelation.

"Y-you would l-leave Mr. Larabee because of how h-he's t-treating me?" stuttered Ezra.

"I wouldn't stop bein' his friend," Vin clarified. "But if he don't think we're doin' the best job we can, then I don't wanna be on his team."

Vin had never thought he would see his friend speechless. When he saw Ezra's mouth open and close, and no words came out, Vin realized that state had occurred. Certain Ezra finally understood the depths of their friendship, Vin closed his eyes and relaxed against his pillow. He was exhausted. He decided he would rest a little while and let Ezra contemplate his revelation. And maybe, that time deemed necessary to heal their wounds wouldn't be needed after all.

*****

Chris nervously paced outside Vin's hospital room. His strange behavior drew puzzled glances from the nursing staff and the guards outside Vin's door. It was clear the opinion they had formed of him over the last few months was making a drastic transformation. He didn't care what they thought, he only knew he had to make his peace with Ezra. Vin had made that perfectly clear.

Now that he understood the foundation for his anger, Chris had finally let it go. As the feeling left him it was akin to air escaping a balloon. His mind clear, he knew he had to apologize to Ezra because it was the right thing to do, not because he was afraid of disappointing Vin. However, he couldn't do it at the office. It would make it seem as though he was repenting his actions as a boss towards a co-worker. It had become much more personal than that. Chris wanted Ezra to accept - or reject - the request for forgiveness on the basis of friendship. If he could repair their relationship, the rest didn't matter.

Josiah had entered the room a few minutes before, so Chris knew it wouldn't be long before Ezra exited. He had no sooner formed the thought, than the door reopened and Ezra stepped out. The undercover agent stopped in his tracks when he came face to face with his superior.

Grabbing Ezra's arm, Chris said, "Come with me." His tight grip left Ezra little choice but to follow Chris into an empty hospital room. Chris slid a chair against the door to prevent anyone from walking in on them even though the room had been kept empty as a safety measure after the attempt on Vin's life.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Larabee?" Ezra suspiciously eyed the blocked entrance.

"I wouldn't call it a problem," corrected Chris. "Hopefully there will be a solution though."

"A resolution to what?"

"To the enmity between us."

"I--"

Chris held up a hand. "I know it isn't your fault. It's mine. Josiah made me realize I was mad at Vin. But because I couldn't take it out on him, I took it out on you."

"It's--"

Again, Chris interrupted, "I want to say I'm sorry. I know what happened to Vin wasn't your fault and I should never have blamed you."

When Ezra staggered, Chris grew frightened and helped the obviously shell-shocked man to a chair. "I'll get a doctor."

"No!" Ezra put a hand on Chris', arm holding him in place. "If you will allow me to complete a sentence, I will explain my reaction."

Encouraged, Chris pulled another chair close to Ezra's and hoped he wouldn't regret his decision. Ezra still looked as though he needed a physician.

"Just as Josiah illustrated that your actions were related to Mr. Tanner's ordeal, Nathan interpreted mine," explained Ezra. "Thanks to our friends, I believe we can now heal along with Vin."

"We're lucky to have such friends," Chris whispered.

"Extremely."

Holding out his hand, Chris said, "I'd feel better if you accepted my apology."

"Though it's not necessary, I accept," agreed Ezra, clasping the hand.

Chris realized he had gotten off a lot easier than he deserved. It made him wonder what he had done to deserve these men in his life.

*****

Vin kept his head down as Chris guided his wheelchair down the crowded corridor. Though there was a brace on his knee, Vin could walk. It was just that he had not recovered sufficiently to cover the distance between the parking lot and the courtroom. Despite this knowledge, he hated appearing weak.

Once this trial was over, he could try to put the entire incident behind him. He would spend the next month at Chris' ranch. If everything went according to plan, he could then return to work on limited duty. After he found a new place to call home, he might start living his life again.

First, he had to testify against Fernando Bagget. For the fourth time, he would have to describe, in detail the torture he had endured. It had been difficult enough saying the words last week at Valverde's trial and then the two bodyguards. But, it had been worth it when all three men had received life sentences without possibility of parole. Vin wondered if his testimony would condemn Fernando to the same fate. Fernando wasn't a hardened criminal like Valverde. He was a misguided boy, who had been led astray. At least, that was what Vin wanted to believe.

When the wheelchair stopped, Vin looked up to see they were in the courtroom. Fernando was sitting next to his court-appointed attorney. The mask of hate twisting the boy's face was directed at Vin. What had he done wrong? This wasn't the boy he had helped graduate high school with honors; the boy for whom he had agreed to be a reference when Fernando got a job after school. 

"All rise."

Vin gratefully turned his attention to the bailiff's order. With Chris' help, he struggled out of the chair and up to his feet. Once the judge had entered and taken his seat, Vin pushed Chris over so he could sit on the bench. This new position blocked his view of the bitter boy. Chris shot him a worried glance when he sighed with relief. He ignored the look of concern, knowing there was nothing any of his friends could do to make this easier on him. He just wanted it over so he could get on with his life.

When his name was called to testify, Vin carefully avoided looking at Fernando. It was hard enough reliving those torturous hours, he didn't need any distractions. As he lifted his gaze to answer the prosecuting attorney's first question, his eyes rested on a woman sitting by herself on the bench behind the defense table - Fernando's mother. Vin's voice cracked as he repeated what he had said the week before in Valverde's trial. He hoped everyone would blame it on his still healing throat. Only he knew it was due to the loathing he saw in Fernando's mother's eyes. The same hate reflecting from her son's dark orbs.

This woman had been his friend. Yet she had turned on him, too. Just as Chris had turned on Ezra. Vin mentally shook his head. Was it wrong to expect a friend to stand at your side no matter what?

*****

With everyone's attention focused on the baseball game, Ezra slipped out of the room. He looked in the kitchen, then the spare room Vin would be calling home for at least the next couple months. When he found both rooms empty, Ezra paused thinking about the type of man Vin was, and the look of disillusionment he had not been totally successful in hiding.

With confidence in his step, Ezra crossed to the front door. Once outside, he wasn't surprised to find Vin sitting on the porch step watching the sunset. Brushing off a spot on the step next to his friend, Ezra silently joined him. Ezra knew there was something wrong. But he also knew Vin. If he tried to force an explanation, Vin would talk about something else, or worse, ignore him.

"Ezra, what is a friend?"

Knowing he had to be careful, Ezra clarified, "Do you want my definition or the dictionary's?"

"It don't matter."

Disliking the defeat he heard in the gruff voice, Ezra said, "The dictionary says a friend is someone whom one knows well and is fond of. It also says it's a person who is on the same side of a struggle."

"I thought it meant more." Vin sighed.

"In what way?"

Vin shook his head. "You'll think I'm crazy."

Recognizing he had to tread carefully, Ezra softly asked, "Do you want to know my definition of the word?" Afraid he would receive a negative response, Ezra hastily revealed, "To me, a friend is someone who would rather die himself than see his friend die. Letting Valverde take you was the hardest thing I've ever done. I almost resigned."

With a look of surprise, Vin's gaze shifted to rest on Ezra's face. "You were doing your job."

"That wasn't why I didn't fight to keep them from taking you," Ezra admitted. "It was because of how I view a friend. You don't let them down, even if it's to save yourself. I knew what you wanted of me, expected of me --"

"And you didn't let me down," confirmed Vin.

With a depreciating smile, Ezra confessed, "It took a good talking to from Mr. Jackson before I figured that out."

"I'm glad someone had some sense."

The silence that fell between them was more comfortable than the one that greeted Ezra's arrival. Though loath to break it, Ezra desperately wanted to help his friend. That could only be done with words. "What is your definition of a friend, Mr. Tanner?"

There was a long pause before Vin whispered, "Someone who will stand at your side even when you're doing something they don't like."

"That would explain why you are such close friends with Mr. Larabee."

A smile flashed across Vin's face before quickly disappearing. "I thought Fernando and his mother were my friends. So I obviously got the meaning of the word wrong."

"You are not mistaken, Vin," corrected Ezra. "You not only know the meaning, you know the intent. It is Fernando and Mrs. Bagget who didn't understand what it means to be a friend. It is they who are misguided, not you."

Vin shuddered. "You should have seen the way they looked at me in the courtroom."

"They were never your friends. They just pretended to be." Anger evident in his voice, Ezra growled, They used you."

"How can I know the difference?" 

"You can't."

"Then what do I do?"

Wondering if Josiah wouldn't be more qualified to answer Vin's question, Ezra pressed, "What do you want to do?"

Staring out at the blazing red sky, Vin decided, "I want to be grateful for the friends I have."

"There are five men inside and another right here who feel the same way."

"And I want the Rockies to clobber the Astros."

Relieved to see the playfulness in Vin's face, Ezra confidently stated, "That will only happen in your dreams, Mr. Tanner."

"How much do you want to bet?"

Rising to his feet, Ezra brushed the dust from his pants. "I am not a thief, Mr. Tanner."

"I got twenty that ways the Rockies will beat the Astros by at least five runs."

"You're on."


End file.
